


Duty Over Pride

by thesockmonster



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:57:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7079944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesockmonster/pseuds/thesockmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To secure peace, Minseok is sent into the heart of his enemies to marry their Prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duty Over Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to A for polishing this up for me. ^^

Minseok’s home is carved into the side of the tallest peak in the land - Krag Mountain. It’s all he’s ever known. The environment is unforgiving and harsh with snow covering the ground for three out of four seasons, and the last season reduces the land into a muddy mess that makes it tough to travel. There are krag beasts - the namesake of the mountain - that live in the caves and claim the mountain as their own despite the people. They’re large creatures covered in white fur that blends with the snow, and they have paws as large as a grown man’s face. They’re quick and deceptive and they run down anyone who is not careful.

Minseok wears a pelt from the krag beast he killed on his twentieth birthday. It’s a tradition for the royal family, a rite of passage to prove they’re worthy of ruling the land, and Minseok had been sent into the snow with nothing more than his leather armor and a spear. It took him two nights to find a cave and another night before a krag beast moved into range. He’d perched over the top lip of the cave and waited, pouncing on the animal’s back, spear aimed downward to kill it quickly and silently so he did not draw out the other krag beasts still hidden inside

It’s only been a year since then, and Minseok is once again called to perform a task born by those of royal blood. He stands proud, shoulders squared and jaw clenched when he’s given his next command. Minseok has spent his life preparing to lead his people, a life dedicated to keeping the citizens of their land fed and clothed, housed and safe from the dangers of the world. Dangers like the krag beasts. Dangers like the elves who use the cover of night to steal across their borders and murder families in their sleep.

Minseok never once, not even in his wildest dreams, imagined that his father would give him an order such as the one he is now faced with. “In order to cement a peace treaty between our nations, you must wed the elven Prince. It is the only way to ensure the alliance,” his father had proclaimed.

There’s a bitter taste on Minseok’s tongue and he has to swallow it down before he bows to his father and the council, keeping his emotions hidden behind a neutral countenance. Inside, Minseok is fueled with a hatred that he has been cultivating since he was a child hearing of the atrocities of the elves. His father was the one who had spoken ill of them, always reminding Minseok to watch his back because an elf may slip a blade between his shoulderblades if he were not cautious. And this same man now tells Minseok that he must marry one.

Minseok’s heavy boots echo as he turns down stone hallways, trying to contain the rage now running through him. His hands are shaking, the door to his bedroom slamming closed behind him. He braces his arms against it after sliding the lock shut so no one can enter without his permission. He has a feeling his mother will not be far behind with her placating words that always melt through the layer of ice Minseok keeps around himself.

He spins on his heel and screams. The sound bounces off the walls and echo back to him. Minseok screams again. He was raised to obey, raised to do whatever was necessary to assure the safety of his people. This is a sacrifice Minseok knows he must make. He had just never thought his father would ask so much of him. To lay in the bed of the enemy?

Perhaps Minseok would not be so angry if he was on familiar ground, but he is to be shipped off to the land of the elves to live. He walks to his window, peering out at the snow covered peaks in the distance. His hands smooth over the stone along the bottom of the frame, bumpy and rough and _home_. This very land necessitates a spirit as hard and unforgiving as the very mountain itself. Their defenses and weaponry, the structures and even the people will not break.

Minseok _will not break_.

He will do this because he must. He will do this because it will stop the senseless deaths. He will do this for his people.

There comes a soft knock at Minseok’s door and he lets out a steady breath. His mother - how predictable. He will miss her.

 

Minseok does not like the look of the guards sent from the elven kingdom to fetch him. They’re all so tall, their long hair pulled back from their faces and holding spears large enough to skewer two krag beasts at once in their hands. Minseok has no doubt that he could defeat them in a fight, one on one, but he is not so sure that it would be easy. These elves look pretty, but Minseok knows how that only adds to their dangerous allure.

His mother used to tell him tales of the elves training their women at a young age in the art of assassination, teaching them to use their ethereal beauty and charms to take their prey off their guard before slitting their throats. These warriors are sure to be just as deadly. Minseok eyes them up and down with mistrust, wishing that he had his sword on his belt, but his father had told him it would be impolite and might insult their guests. Minseok does not care about insulting them, but for the sake of the alliance, he had left it back in his room with all the other belongings he was not allowed to bring with him.

There is, however, a blade tucked in his boot that is out of sight unless he wishes for it to be seen. Minseok may be obedient, but he is no fool. His cousin stands outside with the rest of his family, clearly still coming to terms with the fact that _he_ will be taking up the throne instead of Minseok. Jongdae may be slight, but Minseok knows the strength that lays beneath his heavy furs. The confidence to reign as king will come to Jongdae just as it had done with Minseok. Of that, Minseok has no doubt.

“Farewell, cousin,” Minseok tells him, his fingers clasped tight around Jongdae’s arm as Jongdae clutches harder to him.

“But not goodbye,” Jongdae says, perhaps as a reminder that this will always be Minseok’s home.

Minseok cracks a wry smile. “I expect you will see more of me than you would like,” he teases. “Peace treaties are a finicky business.”

“A business that I am not sure you are cut out for,” Jongdae chuckles when Minseok pulls him into an embrace. “I know what you have stashed in your boot,” he whispers.

“But they do not,” Minseok answers before pulling back. “Luck to you my brother,” Minseok bids Jongdae as a temporary farewell. “The crown will suit you.” Minseok releases Jongdae only for his mother to pull him to her chest, arms beneath his furs as she holds him tight.

“Be brave, my son,” she murmurs, low enough that no one else can hear. And then Minseok feels her slide a small, sheathed blade into the back of his shirt. It hooks onto the collar, hidden by his furs. “I expect you to be on your best behavior,” she says and Minseok would laugh at her if it were appropriate.

“Always. You have my love,” he tells her, giving his mother a final sweep with his eyes. He hadn’t realized how old she has gotten, with the lines around her eyes and mouth, the grey that is sweeping gracefully through her hair. She is still so regal, a pillar of strength even bundled in furs and wearing boots more suited for battle. He will miss her.

“Son.”

Minseok bows his head briefly. “Father.”

“Make me proud.”

Something ugly twists in Minseok’s chest at the words. His entire life has been spent in an effort to make his father, his _King_ proud - to show him that he will not fail as a leader. And it has all come to naught. This one action is all that will ever matter. It may be a peace treaty to their kingdom and to all the royal advisors that keep company with his father, tucked in the deepest rooms of the castle, but this is Minseok’s entire life that is about to be sacrificed in the name of a greater good.

“I will,” is all Minseok says, his voice devoid of emotion. While he has always been close with his mother, there has been a wall between him and his father for a long time now. His mother told him it was necessary for a King to remove himself from attachments, but Minseok has never really understood this. Showing emotion does not make a person weak.

There is a column of soldiers lining the sides of the road just outside the castle. It is here that Minseok takes his leave. He gives his home one last look, burning the highest, snow-covered parapets into his memories because he truly does not know when _or if_ he will ever see them again. This peace treaty could be nothing more than a ruse to get the heir of their kingdom alone so they can slit his throat, leaving his body on the roadside and his head on a pike along the border as a warning.

Minseok boards the carriage sent to carry him into the heart of enemy territory, looking far more courageous than he feels. There is a sickness churning in his stomach and he itches to draw his knife, to keep his fingers curled around the familiarity of the handle just in case. The ambassador, an elf dressed in deep plum colored robes, climbs into the carriage behind Minseok and sits opposite him. Fair hair drawn back in braids off his face, there is a congenial smile on the elf’s mouth that does not reach his eyes.

Minseok has never spoken with the ambassador and he does not intend to start now. He is prepared for a long, silent journey that will take him far from everything he has ever known and into the center of his greatest enemies.

“The weather is far warmer in Nothlin,” the ambassador says. The carriage is just beginning to move, the wheels jerking forward and Minseok sees, for the first time, the physical discomfort of the elf across from him. Even with the extra layers of fabric, his clothing is ill suited to the cold temperatures. “You will be outfitted with clothing to suit both your station and the climate.”

Minseok says nothing, but he does shift, unclasping his outer fur and sliding it off his shoulders. He holds it out for the ambassador who eyes it for a moment before accepting. He would hate for his first appearance before a foreign king to be heralded by the death of his ambassador due to the extreme cold.

“Thank you,” the ambassador murmurs, fitting the furs over his chest. “I am Yifan. It is my honor to begin teaching you the customs of my people so that your transition will be smooth.”

“Tell me, Yifan,” Minseok begins. “Truthfully. Do you believe any of this will be smooth for me?”

Yifan’s lips curl upward just a little. “If you let it.”

 

According to Yifan, Minseok is not _letting_ anything be easy. It is amusing to watch the way the ambassador’s lips thin, his eyebrow twitching as he attempts to teach Minseok and Minseok forgets. Truthfully, Minseok has not forgotten anything, but if he is on the road to his demise, he might as well have some fun with it along the way.

_Stubborn as a mule_ , is what Yifan mumbles to himself, unaware that Minseok can hear him. His next words are in a tongue unfamiliar to Minseok, but he can guess the meaning. Yifan is an amusing companion, and the only elf who will openly speak with him. Minseok had attempted conversation with one of the elven guards riding closest to the carriage, his head peeking through the curtained window, but the guard had not even taken his eyes off the road.

“They are not allowed to converse with you,” Yifan tells him, a smile cracking his mouth.

Minseok furrows his brow. “Why? Because I am the enemy?”

“You are the betrothed to our Prince, and no enemy to us. You are, however, new to our ways and our King has specifically ordered that none may _influence_ your perception of us except for me.”

“You are afraid they will say something that will put the treaty at risk?”

“This treaty is important to us. And because you are sitting in this carriage with me, leaving your country behind, I daresay it is important to your nation too. We will do everything in our power to make this happen. We only desire peace.”

Minseok does not like this peace treaty for entirely selfish reasons. That does not mean he does not see the value in it nor does it mean that he cannot see what is needed for the greater good of both their peoples. One life for the lives of many is not a decision that should lead to any hesitation, but when it is his life, he cannot help chafing at it. He swallows down the smallest hint of guilt and sighs, drumming his fingers on the seat.

“So I am stuck with you,” Minseok eventually says.

Yifan seems genuinely amused. “Indeed.”

 

Every morning involves a light meal of elven breads and jams that had been packed for the long journey, followed by the guards quickly and efficiently dismantling the camp they had set up the evening before. They are always back on the road early, Yifan sitting across from Minseok as he teaches him elven customs and Minseok stealing longing glances out the carriage windows. His behind is wearing the signs of his trip all too well. He is bumped and bruised and it puts him in a foul mood.

Lunch is eaten midday - mostly dried fruits and salted meats that taste far better than what they have in his own home. Not that he will ever admit such a thing. The wine that Yifan sometimes breaks out intensifies the taste, flavors and spices he never knew existed bursting along his tongue.

A late dinner comes at the end of the day’s travels. The carriage is taken off the road and the guards set about raising temporary shelters for everyone to sleep in. A fire is built and the elves leave the camp to hunt. Whatever they catch is what they have for dinner. More often than not, Minseok is offered more wine, but he prefers going to sleep alert, ready to spring awake at the threat of an attack.

As days pass, the weather gets warmer and Minseok sheds his layers. He keeps his knives hidden in the folds of his furs that now lay by his seat. Yifan appears far more comfortable in his airy fabric while Minseok’s leather sticks to his legs. The tables have turned, but Minseok will not give Yifan the satisfaction of complaining about it.

The rough, unforgiving terrain that Minseok is accustomed to gives way for rolling fields of grass, less bumps in the road for the carriage wheels to tumble over. And soon, even the grass is replaced with trees. He knows from his studies that the elves made their kingdom in the ancient forests, working with and around nature instead of clearing it away. He admires that. His own people cut down trees to use for homes, and make use of any resources to mold nature to what they need instead of the other way around.

It also makes for the most fantastical structures that Minseok has ever seen. They pass towers built into the trees that mark the tree line along the road. The forests cover much of the continent, and are mostly unexplored by Minseok's people. He has to admit that it is impressive that the elves have made their home in such a place when the books Minseok read as a child only gave warnings to those who dare tread too deep into the trees. It is that warning that has a foreboding blossoming in Minseok's chest the further the carriage takes him. He cannot see the clearing behind them anymore, and the treetops only get denser the longer they travel.

Yifan tells Minseok what to expect during his wedding ceremony - something that is far removed from what Minseok is accustomed to. Weddings, for the elves, are not only considered more sacred but private too. Minseok's people throw extravagant parties, using the occasion to show off their wealth with a celebration that can last for days. Minseok will never have that.

Yifan speaks of elder trees and the binding of souls; he speaks of an intimacy that gives Minseok pause for contemplation. He has known many a marriage that was plagued with infidelity and strife, many a marriage that was forged out of necessity or for power. What Yifan speaks of is something Minseok had never intended for himself. It is far more than the unification of two peoples by name.

Minseok finds it difficult to sleep under the canopy of trees. He wants to see the stars. They have only just gotten to the outskirts of the official elven kingdom. The buffer between their lands is now behind them and Minseok can only look forward.

He knows that Yifan means well when he speaks to Minseok of the cleansing ritual and the protocols he must learn, when he tells Minseok of the holidays of the elves and the moonlight celebrations that last until dawn breaks through the trees. Minseok only half listens, his attention drawn to the trees and the sounds of the forest around them. The elves all seem comfortable - far more comfortable than they had been when in Minseok's domain.

Minseok wonders if he will ever feel the same.

 

It has been a full twenty-three days since they began their journey and Yifan nudges Minseok awake, alerting him that they have just crossed into the main city. If Minseok had any idea of what the capital of the elves looked like, it is promptly dashed to pieces. He was expecting muted colors and small paths through the trees. He was expecting more chaos and less civility. And he feels ashamed for feeling that way even if it is what he has always been taught.

Nothlin is a thriving city bustling with elves dressed in brightly colored robes, jewelry draped around their necks and wrists, earrings catching in the sunlight that filters through the trees. The forest is sparser here, allowing the light through. Minseok sees shops that are carved into trees, some built around the trunk of a tree and winding up. Wooden bridges hang between the largest of the trees, leading to the shops that are situated higher up.

The elves pause when Minseok's carriage rides slowly along the road and he watches them, curious. These are the creatures he has spent his life learning to fear. How odd that he does not sense any hostility coming from any of them. If anything, they are just as curious as he is.

The carriage trundles forward, the guards along its sides, as the nerves in Minseok's stomach wind tighter. Yifan reaches across, his hand gentle when it rests on Minseok's knee. "You have no enemies here."

Minseok wishes he could believe him but a lifetime of fear will not abate so easily.

At least Minseok's butt will be relieved. When they finally come to a stop - in front of a wide, spiraling tower that rises as high as the tallest trees that it is wrapped around - Minseok is only too happy to step out of the carriage. His bones and muscles ache from such a long journey and he desperately needs to wash himself. The few times they had briefly stopped by a stream to wash had not been enough.

Several elves pour from the doorway, eyeing Minseok with curiosity while smiling at Yifan. "Welcome back," the first one says. He is a handsome elf, with dark hair and vibrant eyes, clad in robes the color of lavender. He also stands on his toes to leave a kiss on Yifan's lips before pulling away.

"Minseok, this is Joonmyun, my husband. Joonmyun, this is our Prince's betrothed, Prince Minseok."

"It is truly an honor to meet you, Your Highness," Joonmyun begins, still smiling. It is a genuine smile, which is more than Minseok can say for himself. The smile on his mouth is wavering, pulled tight. He is too much on edge.

"It has been a tiring journey," Yifan announces. "I do believe Minseok is in need of a bath, a real meal and some sleep."

If Minseok were not so tightly wound up, he might actually have kissed Yifan. "Yes," he begins instead, "that sounds wonderful."

Minseok falls in step behind Yifan, the rest of the elves who had come out now trailing behind him. He can feel their eyes on his back and he shudders, only now realizing that he had left his knives in his furs back in the carriage. How could he have been so careless?

 

Minseok has to admit, the openness of the palace is unexpected, but stunning. With high ceilings and large windows that are all open to let in the warm air, the palace has a welcoming feel to it. Minseok wishes he felt welcome; but all he feels is sick to his stomach. And tired and sore and in need of a soft bed.

It is both better and worse that Minseok is not immediately introduced to his future husband. Yifan leads him directly to one of the winding staircases, his fingers lingering on the railing as they travel upward. He cannot imagine there is much space in the rooms, but Minseok soon learns that appearances can be deceiving.

His room, while not as large as the one at home, is more than large enough for him. There is a round bed in the center of the room, gauzy green drapes tenting around it to block out the sun. Minseok yearns to burrow in the stack of pillows, to wind the soft looking blankets around himself and sleep for days. But he is too filthy for that now.

The far end of Minseok's room has a tub that is sunken into the floor, leafy patterns of green and yellow painted along the entire surface. It is already filled with steaming water.

"There is a hot spring below the palace," Yifan explains. "We pump the water up to use and drain it into the river that feeds the spring after."

Minseok trails his fingers along the water's surface, watching the way it ripples outward. "Thank you," he tells Yifan. "For everything."

Yifan seems pleased, but he is polite enough not to mention it. He leaves Minseok alone in his room. Yifan is not so bad. For an elf.

It is with a heavy heart that Minseok strips away his clothing - the last thing he has of his home with him - and steps into the water. This place is an entirely new world, one just waiting to be explored, but Minseok would hide away from it all if he could. He would crawl back to his home in the mountains, his furs warm around his body and the comforting curve of his sword's hilt pressed to his palm.

This place is a danger. Everything is made to relax him, bring his guard down, and Minseok is not fool enough for that. Yifan may speak of peace and of Minseok being one of them now, but Minseok does not believe for one moment that all of the elves feel the same way.

Minseok washes himself thoroughly and languidly, using the soaps provided for him. The aches in his muscles soon fade. His fingertips are like prunes when he finally pulls himself from the water. A towel has been provided for him, but he does not see any clothing other than his dirty ones from the trip. Once dry, Minseok is left standing naked. And alone.

A little sleep will surely ease his nerves. Finally, he crawls onto the bed, marveling at the way it gives in the middle, sinking down with his weight. Minseok pulls only one of the blankets over himself, rolling to push his face into the nearest pillow. Right now, he needs sleep. He will worry about everything else later.

 

If there is anything Minseok has come to expect from the elves, it is that nothing is how he expects it to be. With Yifan as his primary example of their kind, his opinion may be based off too narrow a sampling, but it is all he has to draw on.

Minseok is dining at a small table, with Yifan across from him, when another elf enters the room. Minseok’s attention is immediately drawn to him. The elf's hair is straight and so blond it is nearly white, falling in long strands that tease around his waist. The sides are pulled back in braids and there is a wreath of silver that sits upon his head, anchored in his hair. His eyes are brown, but sparkling, his pink lips parted as he pauses the moment he sees Minseok. His robes - fabric the shade of mint - flare around him before falling still.

Minseok has heard of the beauty of the elves, but this elf - this elf is more than he could ever have imagined.

"Why is this human here?" the elf questions, his eyes, now hardened, traveling over Minseok with disdain.

Minseok bristles.

Yifan sighs. "I thought you might want to meet your future husband in private," he explains, standing from the table.

_This_ is the Prince? His attitude leaves much to be desired. Minseok forces his face into the appearance of neutrality. This is a match made to assure peace and Minseok speaking right now would do nothing for peace.

"Luhan, this is Minseok," Yifan introduces.

There is a curl to Luhan's lip, a blatant display of dislike on his face that turns his beautiful countenance into that of a petulant child. "Yifan, you know how I feel about this marriage," Luhan says, ignoring Minseok completely.

"And I thought you would have grown up whilst I was away," Yifan bites back, his shoulders slumping. "It took ages for me to arrange this treaty and all you have done is to threaten its success and to insult our guest."

"He is not a guest," Luhan sniffs. "He is not welcome here."

"He is!" Yifan yells. Luhan flinches and takes a step back, his eyes wide. "If your father were here -"

"He is not," Luhan interrupts. "And I will be taking my leave. I do not wish to see him unless I must. That is an _order_."

As soon as Yifan is out the door, Minseok stands up.

"Minseok, I am so sorry," Yifan begins softly.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Minseok tells him as diplomatically as he can. It's hard to stop the wave of anger from seeping into his voice, hard to keep his hands from curling into fists. "He is entitled to his opinion, as I am entitled to mine. I will be going back to my room, where I will be out of the way."

Minseok knows Yifan does not want to leave things as they are, but Minseok does not offer him a choice. He leaves the dining area as quickly as he can, eyes cast straight ahead until he is closing the door to his room behind him.

 

The King throws a gala to celebrate the treaty and to welcome Minseok to his kingdom. Minseok had been fitted for his own robes for the occasion - a stunning shade of icy blue - along with a wreath of silver not unlike Luhan's now sitting in his hair. Minseok feels out of place, an impostor in a room full of elves who are all laughing and dancing so freely.

Minseok sits at the King's right, while Luhan sits on his left, refusing to look in Minseok's direction at all. It has been two days since they met, three days since Minseok arrived, and Minseok is more worried now than ever. Their wedding is to take place tomorrow, in the privacy of a small clearing by the river, and Minseok does not know what he will do if Luhan refuses to cooperate.

Minseok is here for _peace_. If it were anything else, he would have already left. Minseok does not want to be married to Luhan any more than Luhan wishes to be married to him. But there are innocent people who will be caught in the crossfire if this falls through. 

Minseok sits on a throne that appears as if it was once a tree, grown to be this shape, and he watches as a rainbow of silk robes strobe in his vision. He does not belong here.

Minseok is given wine sweeter than any he has tasted before, and several of the guests gravitate toward him, appraising looks on their faces that soon fall when they catch the eye of the King. Or Yifan. Yifan hovers around him like a fretting mother, quick to tamp down any problem that may occur before it happens. The only thing Yifan cannot seem to do is get Luhan to take an interest in his future husband.

The gala is still in full swing when Minseok retires for the evening, stealing away unnoticed save for Yifan and his trained eyes. Minseok gives him a small nod and climbs the stairs. With each step, his chest feels heavier so that he can hardly breathe. He clutches the fabric of his robes, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. His heart is pounding in his ears and he swallows down the taste of his own reticence. Minseok does not want this union and yet he must.

When he slips into his room, he is already pulling off bracelets of silver, pausing in front of the long mirror on the wall. If his ears were pointed and his hair longer, he could pass for an elf. But he is not an elf, no matter how they dress him. Their silken cloth and glinting jewelry can never turn a human into an elf. Pieces of Minseok are already being swept away. His clothing is gone; Yifan said he had sent it to be cleaned, but he does not ever expect to see the leather again. And he is no fool. Yifan had disposed of his furs, along with his knives, the day they arrived.

Minseok is only a man, alone and defenseless. He disrobes and curls into himself atop his bed, wishing that when he awakes, he will be home again and this nightmare will be over.

 

There is a river that cuts along the back of the palace, with outcroppings of pools filled with lily pads and tall plants that Minseok has never seen before. There is a wide tree whose roots curl along the bank of one of the pools, the trunk thick and the branches sturdy. There are purple and blue flowers budding along the branches, some of them fallen to the grass. It is truly a beautiful picture to behold and Minseok would appreciate it if this was not where he is to lose his freedom.

The ceremony is not long. Minseok and Luhan stand chest to chest and the King winds a red ribbon around their arms as a symbol for their souls bonding. Luhan looks everywhere except _at_ Minseok. A crown of flowers made from the tree they are standing beneath is laid on their heads and Minseok tries to quell his nerves as words in a foreign tongue ring out in the small area.

Yifan is here, together with his husband. The King and two other elves that serve as the King’s advisors are the only other attendants. It is better this way as Minseok does not want the weight of so many eyes on him. Already, this is too much.

Minseok waits for the ribbon to be removed, for the part of the ceremony where he and Luhan face the King and watch as he binds their wrists together. This is the part he has been dreading the most. An elven wedding requires the couple to remain bound by the ribbon for the remainder of the day, only to be untied by the officiant - in this case, the King - the following morning.

His right arm feels heavy, his skin prickling where he is connected with Luhan. There is a frown on Luhan’s face and Minseok is certain his own appearance echoes the sentiment. A peace treaty cemented with a royal marriage where neither participant wants any part of it. If anything, it may serve as the only common ground they have.

They are dressed in matching cream robes with a sleeve on one side, their arm and shoulder on the other side left bare. The fabric slides light and smooth along Minseok’s skin and he does not like it. There is no protection that comes with robes, no place to hide a weapon. It is difficult to separate his reality with his past when he has been raised to never allow himself to be in an indefensible position. Especially around elves.

After the ceremony, a beaming Yifan leads them back to the palace. They walk side-by-side, keeping pace behind Yifan and Joonmyun as the King stays behind with his advisors. A messenger will be dispatched to Minseok’s parents, informing them of the successful marriage and the final sealing of the treaty.

There will be peace.

This is what Minseok holds on to as he and Luhan sit for a traditional meal in the center of the throne room - more pastries and cakes than Minseok has ever tasted placed in front of him. He samples many of them, always aware of the deadweight of their arms between them. Luhan speaks with everyone who comes into the palace to congratulate them. He smiles easily, and brightens at the mention of being able to leave freely the following morning. No one speaks to Minseok except Joonmyun.

“Yifan tells me you were a far easier charge than he anticipated,” Joonmyun tells him with a fond smile. “I dare say Yifan likes you.”

Minseok looks at the man beside him, at the way he carries himself and the air of kindness that clings to him. “Yifan is easy to like,” Minseok finally replies. “I felt a little bad for teasing him. But do not tell him that.”

“I would never,” Joonmyun says, smiling. “His ego needs no extra bolstering.”

Unfortunately, Joonmyun cannot stay at Minseok’s side for long and he whispers his apologies as he is called away. Minseok is left with half a slice of cake on his plate and Luhan is tilted away from him as he speaks with another of their guests. He absently trails his fork over the frosting, leaving wavy patterns in its wake. He raises the fork to his mouth and licks the frosting from the tines. Raspberry. He has always been fond of raspberry, although they are a rare delicacy in his home. He used to steal into the kitchens every year when they were delivered just to stuff his cheeks full with them.

Minseok’s discomfort means nothing to Luhan. He does not pay any attention to the way Minseok fidgets or the tug Minseok gives to his arm every few minutes in a silent plea to leave this public spectacle. He had admired the openness of the elven palace when he arrived, but now that he is in the spotlight, the source of every curious gaze, he finds he wants to be left in shadow.

“Luhan,” Minseok finally says, keeping his voice neutral and even.

Luhan goes stiff, inhaling sharply before turning to cut a look at Minseok over his shoulder.

Minseok has to keep his temper from flaring hot and bright at Luhan, willing himself to calm even as the elf turns away from him again, a threat in his eyes. Luhan wants Minseok to be silent and obedient. Minseok desires to be neither. He may be the newcomer, still fumbling to keep up with what is and is not acceptable behavior, but this is too much. Luhan is his husband now. His equal. Just because this is his natural home does not give him the power to treat Minseok as less than his equal.

“I wish to leave,” Minseok says, loud enough for conversation to stop entirely. Silence settles over the room and the look Luhan casts Minseok is venomous. Minseok stares at Luhan, unwavering and unwilling to back down.

“It would be impolite to leave our guests,” Luhan explains through clenched teeth.

“I am sure our guests will understand that we wish to be alone. After all, husband, we have just been married.” Minseok’s smile is sickeningly sweet as he tilts his head. Between them, he feels Luhan’s fingers searching for his, squeezing tight enough for pain to slice up Minseok’s arm. Still, he will not break. Minseok is too hard for that.

“My new husband is fatigued,” Luhan announces to the room after a pregnant pause. “We will retire.”

When they stand, Luhan releases his grip on Minseok’s hand before anyone can see. The conversations do not begin again until Luhan and Minseok have reached the staircase. Minseok had been informed that the room he was using was only a temporary lodging and that all his things - the robes that have been made for him and the trinkets gifted to him - are now in Luhan’s room. It is now _their_ room.

Luhan pulls Minseok unkindly into the bedroom, shutting the door softly before he rounds on him. There is no room for Minseok to maneuver and he is backed against the door with Luhan glaring down at him. “You will _never_ demand anything of me again,” he spits. “How dare you think you are allowed to ask anything of me.”

Minseok’s lip curls. “You forget that I am a Prince as much as you are,” he tells Luhan, keeping a leash on his own anger while Luhan seethes in front of him. “I will not be treated as lesser than you, nor will I bend to your will.” Minseok pushes off the wall until his chest hits against Luhan’s. “I am not yours to control and if you try, I will only push back harder.”

“You are nothing to me,” Luhan spits.

“I am your husband,” Minseok answers. “You may ignore me in private, but in the eyes of the kingdom, I daresay you must play the part to appease your King and your people. If I am mistreated, you can be sure I will not be silent about it.”

“This treaty was a mistake,” Luhan hisses. “You and your people are barbarians.”

Minseok lets out a surprised laugh. “That is the same thing my people say of yours. Perhaps we are both barbarians, and perhaps not. But do not think to judge me on the hearsay of others. Do not think for a moment that I trust you, but we must work together to ensure that the killing stops. That is what we are here for. Your selfishness astounds me. As a Prince, I would think you would put your people above your own desires.”

If Luhan could storm away and leave Minseok, it is clear that he would. He tugs hard on their connected wrists, pulling the ribbon tight enough against Minseok’s skin to hurt.

“If I were you, I would keep quiet and hope that the next one of your people to be killed will not be _yourself_.”

“I will be sure to tell your father that you care so much for me to have warned me,” Minseok threatens.

“Is that what you do? Have others fight your battles for you?”

Minseok, despite having to look up to see Luhan, does not falter, nor does he feel any fear - only bitterness and an emotion that could tip into hatred any moment. “Believe me, _Luhan_ , I would love nothing more than to show you how well I can fight. Perhaps it can be arranged. Accidents happen all the time when sparring.”

“The sharpest object I would let you near is a fork,” Luhan spits.

“I could best you with a fork. I could best you with nothing. You do not scare me little _Prince_.”

“ _Little_?” Luhan scoffs. “You are the one who has to look up at me.”

“I was not referring to your height.”

Luhan’s nostrils flare on his next exhale and Minseok has no doubt that Luhan would shove him out the window this very moment if they were not tied together. “I should rip out your tongue.”

“It would be a shame to rid me of one of my finer attributes,” Minseok says with a lilting smile. “I’ve been told I have a skilled tongue.”

Luhan physically recoils from the innuendo and a flare of triumph rushes through Minseok. The elf prince can only move so far away, but he seems intent on putting as much distance as he can between them.

“Husband,” Minseok croons, taking a step toward Luhan who takes another step back almost immediately, “this is our wedding night. Do not tell me you are going to play the blushing virgin.”

“If you so much as touch me -”

Minseok does. He grabs Luhan’s hand in his, the red ribbon around them keeping Luhan from being able to stop him. Minseok slides his fingers lightly through Luhan’s and the elf’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open in surprise as he stares at the soft way Minseok’s thumb is smoothing over the back of his hand. A shudder visibly rushes up Luhan’s arm. The look of indignation - flush cheeks and dark eyes - is surprisingly attractive on Luhan. It only makes this more fun.

Luhan suddenly twists his wrist, tearing his hand from Minseok’s and bringing their bound wrists up in a way that has pain rushing down Minseok’s arm. “I do not know what game you think you are playing, but you will stop,” Luhan tells him, a scowl on his lips. “I do not want you here and will not tolerate being mocked or toyed with.”

“Then perhaps you should not have provoked me,” Minseok responds. “It would do you well to take your own advice. I want to be here just as much as you want me to be. Think about that. At least you have your home. All I have is _you_.”

Luhan sneers. “Then you have _nothing_.”

Minseok does not see the point in continuing the argument. Luhan is correct. In being sent to this place, being given in marriage to Luhan, Minseok has been stripped of everything he has known, and has been given nothing in return. This marriage will be loveless, perhaps only filled with hate for the rest of their days. Minseok will be isolated, a lone human in the midst of elves who will always be wary of him.

“I desire a bath,” Luhan announces, putting their argument to rest.

The robes were made to be easily removed while their arms are bound together. Luhan slips free of his as Minseok lays on the floor by the tub, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He has no wish to see Luhan naked in the water, nor to help him as he attempts to wash himself with only one hand. He makes these small noises of frustration that Minseok ignores.

He wonders if he will ever get used to this, get used to the open spaces that leave him feeling exposed and vulnerable. It is so unlike the castle at home, where hallways are narrow and rooms small - meant to keep the people inside safe. Luhan splashes and Minseok’s gaze flickers to the shadows of the tree branches that are cast along the walls and ceiling. It is a beautiful picture. It would be comforting if not for the constant undercurrent of fear and mistrust that keeps Minseok tense.

The shadows grow darker and Luhan steps out of his bath, wrapping a robe around himself in time for several servants to enter, lighting candles to keep the room lit and asking Luhan if he needs anything. Minseok goes mostly ignored; only one of the servants approaches him, quietly inquiring if Minseok requires something. Minseok does not. He shakes his head and the servant falls in line behind the others on his way out.

Minseok is not bound by exhaustion when Luhan leads him to their bed. It is larger than the one Minseok had been using, leaving plenty of space for Luhan on one side and Minseok on the other. Minseok dozes as Luhan reads, their arms stretched as far as physically possible between them. It is uncomfortable.

Minseok wakes up sweating, tugging at unfamiliar ties to the robes until he can pull them free. The candles have gone out and the only light in the room is from the moon. He glances at Luhan to see the prince asleep, still sitting up and his face turned away from Minseok.

Minseok finds himself lying awake for a long time, too hot and uncomfortable in this place. With the morning light comes his freedom from the physical ties with Luhan. He rubs the feeling back into his wrist as Luhan quickly leaves the room, a shimmering, silver robe pulled over his shoulders and his hair let down, flowing beautifully down his back. Minseok would be struck breathless if the glare Luhan shot over his shoulder at him had not been so biting.

Minseok may not be bound with Luhan anymore, but he is still just as trapped. A bird in a cage, fluttering about with no way to escape. He eats a light breakfast alone, sampling dishes that are foreign on his tongue and he is not sure if he likes the food. Yifan joins him midway, clearly having come to appease Minseok. He does not inquire about Minseok’s first night with Luhan, nor does Minseok divulge any information.

Minseok does appreciate Yifan’s presence, even if it does nothing more than to soothe the mild sting of a far larger wound. He offers parchment and ink for Minseok to pen a letter home. Minseok nearly declines, but thinks of Jongdae and accepts graciously. There was a code he and Jongdae had created when they were younger, thinking they were clever and using it to pass notes while playing in the hidden tunnels beneath the castle.

Minseok has not had need to use that code in nearly a decade, but he uses it now. He tells Jongdae of his hesitations, and also of the few pleasant surprises that this new life has shown him. He is careful to assure Jongdae that he will be a great king, and not to worry for him. He also sends his mother his love and as Minseok watches the courier tuck the letters into his satchel, Minseok wonders if they will make it home.

 

The heat is sticky and Minseok finds that he sweats easily, so he keeps a handkerchief in his hand as he wanders the grounds. He cannot seem to get used to the temperatures despite having been in Nothlin over a full moon cycle. He does enjoy the scenery. Without anyone around, Minseok gets to take his fill of the pools, staring at his reflection in crystal clear water and running his fingertips over the soft petals of the flowers and lily pads along the edges. It is a peaceful escape from the servants and officials who shadow his movements inside the palace.

Yifan makes it a point to include Minseok in meetings, trying to teach him their way of governing. Sometimes Joonmyun will fall in step at Minseok’s side without a worry on his face as he engages Minseok in easy conversation. Joonmyun also introduces Minseok to the palace staff. But as before, the servants will not look him in the eye, will not approach him save the one who spoke to him on his wedding night.

Minseok learns that his name is Taekwoon and even now, he is the one servant who does not seem afraid of Minseok.

The only time Minseok sees his husband is in the evening when the King himself insists they all dine together, and in the morning as Luhan slips out just after sunrise. On the occasion, they will be in the same meeting, or find themselves face to face while passing through a room, but it never lasts long. Luhan makes it clear that he is going to pretend Minseok does not exist. This gets under Minseok’s skin. He will never find a place for himself, never be able to fully relax unless there is some sort of acceptance.

Minseok often finds himself outside by the one pool where he was married. The memory of the place is unpleasant, but the surroundings are not. They serve to calm him. He shrugs out of his outer robes, leaving a pile of mauve on the ground as he steps into the water. It is cool on his skin and he sighs, content. His steps are short as he slowly wades further into the water. Chills skitter over his arms from the contrast of the water and the sun still beaming down on him. Sweat beads along his forehead and slides down his temples.

Minseok makes it to the deepest part of the pool, letting the water lap around his chest. He dips beneath the surface, coming up refreshed. He slides his fingers through his wet hair, enjoying the peace of the moment - letting it clear his head, if only for a little while. At the very least, he has found this simple pleasure to keep him from going truly mad.

Minseok lingers in the water as the afternoon sun moves over the sky, finally dipping too low to break through the canopy. There’s a moment where Minseok thinks about floating on the surface, letting the currents take him where they may. Perhaps the elves would say it was an accident, writing him off and sending their condolences to his parents. Maybe the elves would spin a tale of a kidnapping. Minseok imagines scenarios in his head, even as he’s trudging back to the shore.

The thin shift of silk, white and now bordering on transparent, clings to his skin as he stands on the grass, dripping. There are voices nearby and Minseok turns, finding none other than Luhan walking his direction, Yifan at his side. Luhan notices Minseok first, freezing in place as Yifan continues walking, speaking to an audience who is no longer listening.

There is something in Luhan’s gaze that is terribly unsettling. Minseok does not look away from him, as if daring Luhan to say something to him, to _acknowledge_ that Minseok is even there.

“Oh, Minseok,” Yifan says once he has finally taken notice of him. Minseok is beginning to get used to the lack of formality, to the way his name is said without his title coming first. Yifan had explained to him that titles and position can serve to come between a leader and his subjects. That is why they seldom adhere to proper titles save for formal occasions.

“Yifan,” Minseok greets. “Luhan.” Minseok sees the way Luhan’s shoulders rise and his mouth twitches, like he has just tasted something sour.

“Is this where you steal off to during the day?” Yifan inquires, smiling as if he is amused. He probably is.

“I find it peaceful out here. There is no one around to make me feel unwanted.”

“I can assure you,” Yifan begins, his diplomatic personality shining through, “that you are most welcome and wanted here.”

Minseok keeps his unwavering gaze on Luhan, who has not moved since spotting him. “Not by the one who matters the most,” Minseok says softly. It is not that he expects anything of Luhan other than civility, but Luhan cannot seem to do even that much. Minseok is tired. This stagnation simply will not do.

“It is not your problem,” Minseok assures Yifan before the ambassador can speak. “I will handle it myself.”

Luhan spins on his heel with a huff, storming off. Minseok watches him go, uncertain as to why his chest feels so hollow.

 

Luhan does not come to bed that night. Or the following night. His place at the table is left empty and Minseok does not visibly react to it. He will not give Luhan the pleasure. He should have known, by now, that Luhan has the mentality of a child. If he cannot get his way, he will throw a fit.

Minseok tries not to take it personally even if he is aware that it is his very presence that Luhan hates. It would be easy to let things be as they are - Minseok knows this. He is already becoming used to it, except this is not how he wants to live. What he wants is at least a sort of comradery if nothing else. He has no illusions that he and Luhan will be anything resembling friends, but Minseok’s stubborn streak will not allow him to let things fester as they are.

“You wish to know where Luhan spends his days?” Yifan repeats in question form, as if the very words had not just spilled from Minseok’s lips.

Minseok raises an eyebrow at the hint of a smile on Yifan’s mouth. Beside him, Joonmyun does not even try to mask the pleased look on his face. “Yes,” Minseok answers simply. He narrows his eyes at the two of them when Joonmyun hiccups a laugh and Yifan clears his throat, clearly trying to be discreet about his amusement and failing. “Is there something funny about wanting to know where my husband is?” Minseok snaps.

“Not at all,” Yifan replies, schooling himself as Joonmyun turns around, stifling a laugh against the soft yellow fabric of his sleeve. “He is out with the soldiers at the moment. Exercising.”

“Thank you,” Minseok sighs. “Was that so hard?”

“Shall I escort you?” Yifan inquires.

“No.” Minseok turns, intent on finding Luhan and forcing him to sit down and _talk_. He has been down to the training grounds before, but it was part of his tour and he has not had reason to visit again until now. He gathers his robes - a subdued peach color today - so as to not dirty them as his steps take him off the road proper and down a narrower path.

He hears the sounds of shouting and of wood and metal knocking together before the trees are thin enough to see. Minseok has learned that the elves, despite the threat of Minseok’s people, do not keep many soldiers. They rely on their tactics and the terrain of the forests to defeat their enemies instead of relying on sheer numbers. But the soldiers that Minseok _has_ seen are all formidable. They are in the best shape, with defined muscle and fast reflexes that definitely rival his own.

Minseok reaches the end of the path and pauses. He is feeling winded, sweating already in the heat of the day. He hates this incessant, insufferable heat. His gaze sweeps along the supply buildings off to the side and over several areas where elves are actively sparring with each other. It is easy to spot Luhan - he is the only one with hair so fair it appears to shimmer in the sunlight. Minseok lets himself linger on the edge, curious as Luhan sidesteps a blow aimed for his chest and comes down with his practice staff, sending the unfortunate soldier to the ground with a well aimed blow to his back.

Minseok sees the soldier roll over and immediately recognizes him as one of the palace guards - Chanyeol, he remembers Joonmyun saying. He is well built, his chest bare as he uses his legs to flip off the ground, staff twirling gracefully in his fingers. Minseok has only ever seen him with his hair down, braids pulled back at the sides - it is the standard for the guards. But today, Chanyeol’s hair, red and long, is pulled completely back, twisted and clipped to the back of his head while Luhan’s hair is left down, free from decoration.

The two circle one another and Minseok slips quietly down toward them, mostly ignored as per usual. Part of him bristles at the treatment, while the other part is thankful for the chance to be unseen, to do as he wishes without eyes always on him. Minseok finds himself near his destination, only balked by the racks filled with weapons. He pauses, glancing up to see that Chanyeol has clearly spotted him. There is a wry, knowing smile on the elf’s face that unsettles Minseok.

Luhan still has his back to Minseok, his focus solely on Chanyeol. The thin fabric of Luhan’s inner robe is peeled off his sweat covered arms and Minseok watches as he carelessly tosses it aside, leaving the prince dressed only in linen pants and his muddied boots. It takes a moment for Minseok to realize that Chanyeol is purposely moving to keep Luhan’s back to Minseok. Incensed, Minseok leans forward to call for Luhan, but Chanyeol lunges at the Prince before he can and Minseok’s lip curls.

“You seem distracted,” Chanyeol comments, his voice carrying on the wind.

Luhan grunts, parrying Chanyeol’s blows easily, ducking the next one and shoving back.

“In fact,” Chanyeol continues, “you have not been yourself for quite some time.” Chanyeol’s eyes flicker back to Minseok and Minseok stands straight, riveted. Perhaps Chanyeol is not purposefully trying to insult him.

Luhan slams the end of his staff into Chanyeol’s shoulder and the elf stumbles back. “I can still take you down easily enough,” Luhan quips. His stance widens and he holds his staff out in a defensive position.

“I have been holding back,” Chanyeol says with a grin. “Because you are definitely distracted. What is it that has our prince so off his game?” Chanyeol taunts.

Luhan whips forward, staff spinning and Minseok watches how at ease Luhan is with his chosen weapon, how fluid his motions are with each move.

“Could it have something to do with your newly acquired husband?”

Minseok sucks in a sharp breath and Luhan smacks Chanyeol’s ribs with his staff. Chanyeol quickly recovers, sweeping his staff under and locking Luhan’s with his, pushing forward so Luhan has no choice but to step back. Toward Minseok.

“I thought humans were supposed to be ugly,” Luhan spits, his jaw clenched as he attempts to push against Chanyeol to release their weapons.

Chanyeol smiles, his grip unrelenting and feet sliding apart in the loose dirt to keep Luhan from breaking free. “That is what we were told.”

“So why is this one so pretty?” Luhan demands. “Is it a trick?”

Minseok’s mouth drops open and this strange weight presses in on his ribs.

“It sounds to me that you may _like_ your husband,” Chanyeol teases.

Luhan growls low in his throat, hair swaying as he shakes his head. “How can I like my enemy?”

“He is no longer the enemy,” Chanyeol informs Luhan. “There is peace, and yet you keep making excuses to run away.”

“A _prince_ does not run away,” Luhan snarls.

“Then why are you down here with me every day?” Chanyeol slackens his hold and steps back.

Luhan trips forward, barely keeping himself from falling at the sudden lack of resistance. He wipes the hair from his face and stares at Chanyeol as Minseok watches, his heart beating too fast. “I will not give in just because I was commanded to marry him.”

“Is that it then?” Chanyeol asks, head tilting. “Your pride is smarting?”

“It is easy for you to jest,” Luhan grits out. “It is not you who married him.”

Chanyeol smiles, reaching up to take down the pin in his hair. The strands falls below his shoulders, a cascade of red that covers his pointed ears. “If I had Minseok for a husband,” he begins, sweeping fingers through his hair, “I would still have him in my bed.”

If Minseok were not already flushed from the heat of the day, he is sure that his cheeks would be burning.

In a flash, Chanyeol is flat on his back and Luhan has a knee pressed to his ribs, a hand twisted in Chanyeol’s hair. “He is _not_ yours. He is _mine_.”

“Perhaps you should let him know,” Chanyeol says, seemingly unphased at his current situation. “Before he finds someone else that will appreciate him.”

Luhan raises his body off of Chanyeol, wiping at the sweat on his neck.

“Everyone knows you sleep elsewhere and you come down here to avoid him. I daresay you are falling short when it comes to your position. A prince should lead by example.”

“Thank you, Chanyeol,” Luhan says, emotionless. “You are dismissed.”

Minseok backs away slowly, quietly, not wanting to be seen. He keeps to the trees, finding his own way back to the palace as this new knowledge settles within him. He does not know what to think anymore. Luhan confuses him and his own reaction to the overheard conversation is even more confusing.

Minseok has never dared hope for more than a mutual respect with his spouse, but to hear such words coming from Luhan - to hear him say that Minseok is his with such passion has Minseok’s hope flaring. He does not even know Luhan enough to decide if he wants Luhan to desire him, but now it is out there and he cannot stop his thoughts from wandering.

Minseok is aware that Luhan is attractive; it was just simpler when Luhan’s handsomeness was offset by his bratty attitude. It was easy to ignore any redeeming qualities about the prince when they were all overshadowed by his arrogant personality. This new knowledge, however, gives Minseok pause to rethink this whole truce he had wanted to discuss.

Minseok finds himself wandering the market around the palace to clear his head. There is a palace guard escorting him, but everyone seems to be accommodating, and a little intrigued by Minseok. He could get lost out here, following winding paths and well built bridges from treetop to treetop. It becomes less about the merchandise and more about exploring, learning about this culture that, thus far, he has only dipped his toe into.

Minseok must face the reality that these are his people now. There are no enemies here. He finds a spot on one of the highest bridges and he stops, content to watch. Children play in the streets below, their lilting laughter tinkling through the air as their parents keep a casual eye on them. It is different from his home where the children were kept indoors for fear of losing them in a snowstorm or to the jaws of a krag beast. These people are free from that fear.

Minseok is the one who misses dinner this night, graciously accepting food from several vendors who are only too eager to see if he approves of the taste. The sun has set and the lanterns are lit when Minseok makes it back to the palace. He weaves up the stairs to his room, his head pleasantly heavy with fatigue. He has not thought of Luhan for hours.

Minseok expects this night to be the same - for Luhan to be absent from their room. He shrugs off his dirtied robes, leaving his shoes by the door to be cleaned before padding quietly toward the bath. He stops short when he sees Luhan already in the water, his eyes trained on Minseok. Minseok stands there, feet dirty and only a flimsy pair of linen pants covering his lower half as Luhan simply stares.

Minseok does not move until Luhan gestures to the water. There is enough space for Minseok to join him. It takes a moment for Minseok to push away his initial response to flee, and to silently accept the invitation by sliding his pants off and stepping into the warm water. The silence between them is charged and Minseok is afraid to break it.

He turns away to wash himself, only to let out a gasp as he feels Luhan’s fingers glide around his neck and to his chin, tipping his head up.

“Let me,” Luhan whispers. Water soaks through Minseok’s hair, trickling down his back, and all the while Luhan’s hand stays firmly on Minseok’s chin.

Minseok can hardly breathe. This position leaves him exposed, vulnerable, and he cannot help but think that if Luhan was intent on taking his life, he would be able to do so at this moment.

Luhan does not. Instead, he soaps Minseok’s hair, washing through the strands that are longer now than they have ever been, before rinsing the soap away. When he finally retreats, Minseok is left standing, uncertain of what is happening. He finally turns, but Luhan is already stepping out of the water, pulling a towel around himself.

Minseok drops his eyes to the surface of the water, confused as his heart continues to pitter patter away in his chest. After a minute of inaction, he begins the mechanical motions of washing himself clean. It feels nice to have the sheen of sweat gone from his skin, and the itchy dirt banished from his feet and ankles.

Minseok leaves the bath to find that Luhan is already in their bed. Asleep. Minseok joins him, too tired from the day’s exertions - both physical and mental - to resist sleep. He will worry about Luhan tomorrow.

 

Luhan joins Minseok for breakfast. He does not greet Minseok, but every time Minseok raises his eyes, he sees Luhan staring back at him. And Luhan does not pull his gaze away. Minseok finds himself uncomfortable with the attention, especially because he has gotten so used to being completely ignored.

The food tastes bland on his tongue - too dry to swallow. Minseok sips his water, flickering his eyes across the table to see Luhan sliding his thumb out of his mouth. It is Minseok, this time, who is left unable to look away as Luhan takes another bite of his peach. A line of juice slides from the corner of his mouth and Minseok finds himself drawn to it, his stomach twisting at the sight of Luhan's tongue darting out to catch it.

"Please excuse me," Minseok says, standing from the table. He needs to clear his head.

Luhan stands up as well, a hint of a smile on his wet lips. "Shall I escort you today?" Luhan offers. The look on his face is sweet, but Minseok is not so sure that is Luhan's true intention.

Minseok sighs, shaking his head at himself. "Why?" he questions. Minseok rounds the table until he is directly by Luhan. "Since I arrived here, you have done nothing but pretend I do not exist. Why are you doing this?"

Luhan is silent for a moment, turning to face Minseok fully. "I am tired of of fighting. I have decided to give in."

"To your King?" Minseok inquires, raising an eyebrow in question.

Luhan's smile, this time, is less innocent. "To myself."

"I do not understand," Minseok begins, voicing his frustration with this sudden turn of events. "You have made it plain that you hate me and wish for me to be gone from your home."

"My feelings toward you were influenced by the stories I had heard of your people. It was a bias against your people. I have learned to separate that from you as an individual. It is a step toward shedding the old and beginning again."

Minseok is surprised that Luhan is capable of such character growth, which only tells him that he should be more open as well. Yes, he has been wanting more from Luhan, learning more about this new culture, but he has also been harsh toward Luhan in his thoughts.

"Will you allow me to act as your husband?" Luhan asks. "I would like to know you."

Minseok teeters on a precipice, eventually falling forward into the unknown. He does not know what will come of this, but he is willing to try. Anything has to be better than being ignored.

 

It does not take long for Minseok to regret his decision. Perhaps he'd been hasty in granting Luhan permission to be at his side. It is not any one thing that Luhan has done to make Minseok feel this way, but many small, almost unnoticeable actions that are beginning to build up.

Being in Luhan's company means that Minseok has a new teacher when it comes to the ways of the elves. Unlike Yifan, Luhan is less formal. He enjoys slipping into Minseok's personal space, fingers lingering along exposed skin before pulling back. It leaves Minseok flustered, and his skin warm, his heart skipping a few beats as he rushes to catch up.

Luhan does not do anything more than touch. He touches often - Minseok's hands, his arms, his shoulder when he aids Minseok in taking off his robes before a bath in the evening. Minseok cannot accustom himself to his husband’s touch. He still shivers as Luhan's fingers glide smoothly along his neck, raising Minseok’s head to wash his hair.

Minseok does not reciprocate. He finds that he is afraid to. There is this growing pressure in his chest, a fluttering in his stomach when he sees his husband, when Luhan brushes against him and then pulls away as if nothing has happened. Luhan does not seem deterred by this. If anything, he persists.

It takes Minseok far too long to realize that what he is feeling, what accompanies every touch and glance and smile that Luhan gives him, is desire. Minseok _desires_ Luhan. It is something he had never anticipated. How could he? He was sent to live in the home of his greatest enemy. The most he had hoped for was camaraderie over time.

But this. This gives him pause for thought.

They are standing in Minseok's favorite pool. It is still hot out - it is always hot out - and the humidity in the air had been stifling him. Luhan had noticed and suggested cooling off in the water. Minseok had only been too happy to agree.

The ends of Luhan's hair float on the surface, and droplets of water cling to his eyelashes as he smiles. Sunlight slants through the canopy, hitting across the pool to make the water sparkle, and Luhan seems to glow with it. Minseok cannot breathe.

"Are you alright?" Luhan questions, stepping forward. He raises his hand, but seems to think better of it, his eyebrows furrowing. "Is the heat still too much?"

Minseok reacts without thinking. His fingers swipe along the curve of Luhan's shoulder, catching the water on his fingertips. He hears the hitch in Luhan's breath, feels how his body goes tense for a moment before relaxing. Minseok looks up at Luhan. His eyes are dark, his lips parted and Minseok nearly tips forward and into his arms.

"Luhan!" 

They both startle, turning to the sound of Yifan's voice. The ambassador appears quite frazzled, rushing toward them, his azure robes swishing around his legs. "You two," Yifan begins in an accusatory tone, pointing at the both of them when he gets to the shore, "are supposed to be getting ready for this evening."

Minseok feels his chest constrict the moment Luhan's palm rests over his hand where it is still settled on Luhan's shoulder. "We will be in soon."

"Now," Yifan commands before turning to storm back toward the palace.

Luhan looks down at Minseok and, a moment later, bursts into laughter. "I forgot about tonight’s celebration," he admits. "We should head back. I would hate to upset our dear Yifan further. Joonmyun gets huffy when I deliberately agitate his husband."

Minseok allows Luhan to guide him out of the water, a longing washing over him when Luhan takes his hand. Luhan does not let go as they walk back toward the palace. They only part when the servants come to take their wet clothing, leading them each to a different room immediately afterwards. Luhan tightens his grip on Minseok's hand before they go their separate ways.

Minseok cannot calm the beating of his heart or stop the way his cheeks heat until they're pink. This is new.

 

The gala is a gorgeous affair, the room awash with the light from the moon that’s spilling through the roof. The silver silk fabric of everyone's robes is shimmering and it reminds Minseok of Luhan, of the first morning he woke with Luhan leaving their bed, silver slipping over his bare shoulders and hair fallen down his back.

He was beautiful then. He is ethereal now.

It is a celebration of the moon - an annual holiday for the elves that falls on the largest full moon of the year. Minseok feels privileged to be a part of it. It is a shame that he is too distracted to appreciate the atmosphere of the occasion. His mind and body are too oriented on Luhan, on the way his hair has been swept up into a twist, held to the back of his head with decorative pins, on the way his robes fall open in the front, a trail of silver from his chain disappearing into the folds.

Luhan is in silver, just the same as Minseok - just the same as everyone - and yet he is the only one who steals Minseok's breath away. Minseok does not know the traditional dances, but Luhan is there to guide him, an arm around Minseok's waist as he spins him around the room. Everything in the background is a blur; the only thing in focus is Luhan.

His eyes are sparkling, his hold firm and possessive as he keeps Minseok close. Minseok finds himself clutching back just as hard, as if he is afraid this is all a devious dream that will be stolen from him at any moment. He does not know how Luhan has managed to pour himself through the cracks in his wall, but he has and Minseok does not want him to leave.

The world slows, a pause in time where Minseok finds himself ineffably pulled in, entranced. His head is heavy, his chest light, and the soft music and conversation in the background all fade away. Minseok thinks they have stopped moving.

His stomach swoops, a gasp escaping his lips when Luhan pulls Minseok from the celebration. Their robes rustle, the sound lost in the music before Minseok finds himself with his back pushed to a wall, hidden out of sight of the guests. Luhan is in front of him, his eyes darting from Minseok’s eyes to his lips and back. Minseok lets out a soft groan, balling his fists in the front of Luhan’s robes to drag him in.

Their first kiss is urgent, Luhan’s fingers curling in Minseok’s hair to tip his head back as he devours his mouth. Minseok has had kisses before, but none such as this - none that make his heart want to climb out from his chest and into Luhan’s. None that make him ache and crave for another’s touch the way this one does. His toes curl and a moan leaves his lips, only to be swallowed down by Luhan.

Luhan only pushes harder, pressing Minseok flat against the wall, his body held up only by Luhan because his knees have given out. Heat pours into Minseok, tempting and addictive as it sweeps through him entirely. He forgets everything around him save for Luhan.

When Luhan pulls back, only enough for them to breathe, his eyes are shining in the moonlight and Minseok experiences the sudden sensation of free falling. He only hopes Luhan will be there to catch him.

“Come on,” Luhan whispers. He takes Minseok’s hand, pulling him off the wall as they move away from the celebration. He takes Minseok through hallways that Minseok has never seen, their feet moving swiftly through the empty palace as they climb the stairs.

They finally close themselves in the privacy of their room. Minseok needs a moment to breathe, to take all of this in, but Luhan does not allow him one. Luhan’s hands cup Minseok’s face, bringing him in as he kisses him again and again. Minseok is barely able to keep up, even if he is just as eager.

Minseok learns to appreciate the ease with which robes can be untied, left to pool on the floor as Luhan shrugs out of his own. His gaze is predatory and Minseok licks over his lips, walking forward as Luhan steps back. Luhan sits on the edge of their bed, his chest heaving and cheeks pink, his lips even pinker and wet, enticing.

Minseok crawls into Luhan’s lap without hesitation, moaning softly at the possessive way Luhan’s fingers tighten on his thighs as they kiss again. Luhan’s tongue slips so easily into Minseok’s mouth, and Minseok tilts his head, an arm curved around Luhan’s neck to rock against him. They have seen each other naked plenty of times, but this time they get to _touch_.

Luhan’s fingers travel up Minseok’s thighs and along his stomach, briefly pausing when Minseok shifts closer. Then his fingers are sliding up Minseok’s chest, and a heady arousal settles around them, thick and persistent. Every touch, every heated glance, every moment since Minseok arrived has been leading to this. The floodgates have been opened and will not be closed again.

Minseok slips his hands into Luhan’s hair, soft strands twining so effortlessly around his fingers. He tightens his grip, surprised, when Luhan wraps his arms around Minseok’s waist and lifts from the mattress. Minseok finds himself pressed to their bed, his legs fallen open and Luhan right at home between them. His hair falls as a curtain around them, creating a world just for the two of them.

Luhan kisses Minseok gentler, his lips merely a whisper along Minseok’s jaw, his neck, his chest as Luhan moves lower. Minseok pulls in shallow breaths, his heart fluttering and chest so heavy with want that he’s easily swept away. Luhan touches him in ways he’s never been touched, worships Minseok with his mouth and his oil slick fingers until Minseok’s head is tipped back, mouth agape with pleasure when Luhan sinks into him.

Their hands are clasped, their eyes only on each other as they move together, savoring this moment because it has taken so long to get here. Minseok holds tight to Luhan, panting his husband’s name as Luhan moves inside him quicker, deeper. It feels like finally letting go, like all the negativity of the past months has found a way to drain from him, leaving Minseok hopeful for a better future.

For the first time, Minseok’s heart feels full to bursting. And he never wants to let this go.

“Minseok,” Luhan moans, shuddering as his hips stutter forward. “My Minseok.”

Minseok’s back lifts from the bed, thighs tight around Luhan’s hips when he falls apart, Luhan’s name on his lips. It leaves his mind muddled and dizzy, but his senses heightened as Luhan stills over him, his face pushed to Minseok’s neck. Luhan leaves a path of lazy kisses that lead up to Minseok’s mouth, only stopping when Minseok pushes at him so he can catch his breath.

Luhan lifts away from Minseok, only to flop down on the bed next to him. There is a beautiful smile on Luhan’s face that Minseok mirrors, and he has to fight the urge to laugh. It is so ridiculous, this intense reversal of their feelings for each other.

It is too warm in the room. Minseok rolls onto his stomach, stretching out to alleviate the ache in his muscles. Luhan reclines on his side, head perched on his hand as he stares at Minseok. His hair is everywhere and Minseok can’t help running his fingers over several strands that lie on the blanket near him.

Luhan leans down, a kiss pressed to Minseok’s bare shoulder. “You make it so easy to love you,” Luhan whispers against skin as the pads of his fingers travel slowly down Minseok’s back.

“Do you?” Minseok asks. “Love me?”

Luhan hums softly. “Not yet.” His hand pauses, fingers drumming on Minseok’s lower back. “But I will.”

That is enough for Minseok. He graciously accepts Luhan’s next kisses, easily pushing Luhan onto his back and slotting between his legs. “I could love you too,” Minseok admits, heart racing as Luhan frantically kisses him again.

***

It has been a year since Minseok left his home, his life and everything he has ever known. It has been a year of learning to overcome fear and mistrust, a year of learning to embrace the new and live a life he never would have imagined for himself.

It has been a year of learning his husband along with learning to open up about himself. Things are not always smooth between them, but they work through them together. It is not easy to simply abandon decades old prejudices that have built up over an entire lifetime. When they surge forward, it is only the affection - and eventual love - that they hold for each other that aids them in working out their differences.

Minseok is fortunate to have such a man at his side.

To celebrate the anniversary of the peace between their peoples, they have set up a great festival on the border of their two lands. It is a dazzling sight. Tents have been erected, stalls hastily put together for food and games. It is a blending of the two cultures.

It is not perfect. There is still mistrust in the air, a tension that does not lift until Minseok rushes into the arms of his cousin, lifting him off the ground and spinning him around. Jongdae looks good with a crown on his head. Minseok knocks it askew just for fun.

Jongdae does not fix it as he hugs Minseok again. “I see you worried for nothing,” Jongdae teases before releasing him.

Minseok wrinkles his nose. “I did not. There was plenty to worry over. I merely adapted and overcame.”

Jongdae’s eyes trail to behind Minseok and his eyebrows lift a little. “If I was married to a man that attractive, I would overcome too.”

Minseok narrows his eyes at Jongdae. “It is not too late for me to take that crown back,” he threatens. Jongdae just laughs at him. Minseok waits for him to calm. “How is my mother?”

Jongdae sighs. “She went on a rampage when your father said she could not come to the festival. He said that I must learn to do these things on my own.”

Minseok had had a feeling he would not be seeing his mother, but to have it confirmed makes it worse. He misses her the most.

“Of course,” Jongdae continues, “she nearly took your father’s hand off with his sword.”

“That sounds like her. Father probably had her locked in their rooms.”

“He did.” Jongdae steps closer. “But she picked the lock and stowed away in my carriage.” Jongdae tips his head in Luhan’s direction behind Minseok. “And I do believe she has found your husband. Good luck.”

Minseok spins, just in time to witness his mother punching Luhan’s arm. He rushes over, ready to pull her away, but she has already tugged Luhan into a bone crushing hug.

“I see where you get your strength,” Luhan wheezes when he’s finally released.

“You are too small,” Minseok’s mother comments, ignoring her son completely. “Let us find you something good to eat. We brought krag pie.”

Luhan, caught in Minseok’s mother’s clutches, has no choice but to follow. He gives Minseok this helpless look that has Minseok laughing.

Joonmyun walks over, arms folded as Yifan is brought down by several children from the nearby human village. Only moments later, Jongdae bounds over, his eyes dragging over Joonmyun from head to toe. Minseok knocks his hand to Jongdae’s arm.

“He’s married,” Minseok hisses.

Jongdae’s smile droops, but only until he sees where Chanyeol is lingering around Luhan, standing in the sun as Minseok’s mother sits Luhan at a table, a plate in front of him. Jongdae makes a soft noise and scurries to the palace guard.

Minseok groans. His heart is not going to survive this visit.


End file.
